I have returned and a very great deal has transpired since my last posting whose recipe - by the way - still stands as one of the favorite go-to meals of the Johnson household. You can peruse how to make dynamite gyros at home, here.
So, where to start? We sold Matt's beloved house he purchased at 29 years of age and it was a touch melancholic packing things up. While house hunting, we moved into an uptown flat to lead lives as city people. I envisioned dinners picnicking in the park, visits to the wine bar below our building, evening ball games and Saturday mornings with coffees in hand walking across the city to the grocery store for provisions. Not entirely.
From my first tiny 160 square foot pre-war flat in Dusseldorf to my doorman, shoe-box alcove apartment in the thick of Chelsea in New York City (120 West 21st street had me with the massive closet, which was larger than my kitchen) to my Trade street digs circa 2009, I am all for apartment living. Lock and leave. Problem? Call someone. No cutting grass, leaving garbage bins on the side of the street, finding an absurd dollar amount to replace an HVAC or worrying about drawing attention with absent cars. My husband and apartment living? Not so much. Waiting for elevators in a building with some 400 units, erroneous small talk with strangers, the random dog who sniffs annoyingly and schlepping groceries from a communal garage with an entry door that sticks is not exactly his definition of #goodtimes.
After more months of searching than we care to admit, our agent found a gem of a spot in a wonderful neighborhood in my very favorite neck of the Charlotte woods. The former owners could not have been lovelier, and kindly turned over the keys to the home they raised their family in for more than 40 years. Requiring a bit of TLC, we spent some time transforming it from the screen set of Silence of the Lambs to a place to hang our hats. We moved in ready to host a neighborhood shebang rivaling those from our wonder years at Reynolds Ranch only to move out a month and a bit later thanks to a compromised main sewage line, which resulted in a wrecked downstairs. The downstairs bathroom had not even been christened.
Imagine a multi-man hazmat team cleaning for ten days, stripping dry walls on newly painted surfaces, tearing up floors installed a whisper of time beforehand and the piece de resistance - the identification and removal of asbestos. And lest I not forget, a demised front lawn thanks to an unruly backhoe. And a destroyed sprinkler system. The list of "what nows" seemed to ensue exponentially. All icing on the "welcome to the joys of home ownership" cake. I embarked upon the tiresome task of finding an (insurance company approved) GC in a market saturated with them who are in positions to be choosy.
At some point before the house sale, we were elated to be pregnant, and then 14 weeks later we weren't, and in October of last year, we were pregnant again, and feeling very confident about things. Our dreams finally came true on June 29 when our 10 pound 3 oz not-so-little lady charged into the world. Now, I am writing whilst listening to my 10-week-old baby Lucy squawk like a hungry little bird indicating it's, yet again, nap-time. Only, as I am fast learning, achieving said nap during the defined "relentlessly search for sleepy cues" window continues to be a total enigma to me. We are utterly enthralled with our "Bonnie Lass" as my mother likes to call her. Our miracle baby. My labor and delivery were both horrifying exercises, and my recovery is slower than molasses. "It's a marathon, not a sprint," my doctor reminds me regularly.
Thank my stars for grandparents; cooking splendiferous meals, watering our thirsty plants, lending their valued expertise, picking up cases of wine, giving our arms a break when we need one and putting fresh flowers in vases. I am imploring the clock to slow. Every day flies by and I marvel as weeks turn to months and we ask each other, how could we be so far along yet feel as if we just began. Halcyon times indeed.
Our cherished Lucy is feisty, strong-willed, active and inquisitive. In the hospital she was grabbing for her bottle to the utter awe of nurses and since week three, has been able to hold up her head, alert with pride. She has big, inquiring eyes that peer with attentive amazement. And, she has officially captivated her mama with her smiles. Motherhood has been a positively overwhelming fantastic whirlwind. I am hooked! Lucy is my doppelgänger and staring at her has become a daily past time. When she is flummoxed, I pick her up, shhh into her ear and she melts into my chest like a little chocolate bar. Each morning, our routine begins with a trip to the front porch so she can peer out into the world. We practice our nursery rhymes at changing time. When she sneezes, I speak to her in German and explain the derivations of "Gesundheit."
Over the past 11 months, I have accepted (not always so smart of me) each and every piece of advise given (solicited or not). I have exhausted Google to the point where I am now a self-appointed medical professional. Why didn't I go to med school I ask my husband each night when we have ten minutes to spend together before we jump into bed at the same time as her because who knows when we will be up again. Pre-Lucy, I scoured the mom blogs for everything I absolutely needed to have for the delivery room (on day two of labor Matthew took home two bags of "stuff" citing the amount of loot we had was embarrassing) to must-have items for a new baby at home (once again, 99% of items, I did not need). Thousands of dollars at Amazon literally, pissed up against a wall. One stellar piece of information we did receive was to bring the nurses chocolate. During my lengthy stay in the hospital we distributed some 16+ pounds of the good stuff. Three times a day, my Matthew walked the halls with treats in hand to distribute to the incredible staff who took tremendous care of us. Tremendous care of me.
Sweets aside, our wonderful network of friends have delivered scrumptious dinners to us the last 10 weeks and for this, we are forever grateful. Despite my love of cooking, I have found little time to do anything except be with our baby. I said to someone recently, I was always suspicious of my friends who upon becoming new moms were slow to respond to text messages. How difficult is it to send a text message, I asked. Now, I totally get it. So for those of you to whom I have been slow to respond, apologies. Anyways, I have been tucking into all sorts of treats like double stuffed Oreos (one of our first deliveries), Jeni's ice cream because as people tell me - "enjoy yourself, you just had a baby" and the chocolate chip lactation cookies I am just telling myself work.
The below salad is one my dear cousin Annabel always prepares in bulk once it's time for fitting into her skinny pants. Speaking of Annabel, my folks just arrived in London and have the pleasure of her glorious company as well as that of my cousins Graeme and Finley for the next week. They SnapChatted me this morning whilst enjoying lunch at their local pub. Lucky ducks kicking off Fall, abroad...
Annabel's Salad
Fixings
1 head of red cabbage - chopped
1 head of lacinto kale - chopped
1 carrot - chopped
OR you can cheat and buy a container of ready prepared greens (perfect for the new mom!)
1 TBS fennel seeds
1/2 cup of salted, roasted sunflower seeds - toasted
1/2 cup of sliced almonds - toasted
3/4 cup of blue cheese
1 packet of prosciutto / lardons or bacon - sautéed until crispy
1/3 cup of sesame oil
1/3 cup of rice wine vinegar
It's That Easy
Add all to a large bowl, mix and season with maldon salt.
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